Hope Guides Me
by Anya2
Summary: A good deed in the dead of winter is all well and noble but when, on a long journey home again, Much falls desperately ill Robin will stop at nothing to save him. Especially when the illness is spreading and the Sheriff is keeping all the urgently needed
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Hope Guides Me  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** Only very minor ones for 2x01 and 2x02.**  
Pairings:** Robin/Marian and Will/Djaq, slight hint at Allan/OC. There's also a nice dollop of Robin/Much and Allan/Much friendship to be had.  
**Warnings:** None (unless you think 'Much related angst and worry' should come with a warning.)  
**Summary:** A good deed in the dead of winter is all well and noble but when, on a long journey home again, Much falls desperately ill Robin will stop at nothing to save him. Especially when the illness is spreading and the Sheriff is keeping all the urgently needed treatments to himself.

**Author's Note**** 1** With apologies to the 'Treat Much Right' campaign. I am treating him right honest, as is Robin and the whole gang. He just has to get a little bit deathly ill in order for them to do this.

**Author's Note 2:** I've long thought that the film 'A Knight's Tale' is our show's spiritual cousin. Anyone who hasn't seen it really should because if you're not particularly bothered by purposeful historical inaccuracies then you'll probably love it. Anyway, in it is a character called Kate. She's a bit underused but she is just fabulous – strong, takes no nonsense, is fiercely independent and can just be one of the boys whilst remaining very much a woman. She also has a slightly secretive past (like where did she learn to dance like the nobles?). When I saw the film again the other night I thought 'she should be in Robin Hood because that show needs more wonderful women', so now, by the power of fic, she is. This is not a crossover, more a character transplant and as such it makes not a jot of difference if you've seen the film really. I've kept it very much a team Robin piece.

* * *

When Much said he wasn't hungry, they laughed. 

Allan said that that seemed about as likely as the King returning, setting up home with the Sheriff and the pair of them rearing goats for a living. John snorted in disbelief whilst Djaq and Will simply smiled at each other. Robin just grinned.

But Much was insistent. He was not hungry. But he was very tired and if they wouldn't mind keeping it down a bit he'd like to get some sleep.

Robin could understand that. They were all tired and the forest floor was not really comfortable enough to allow the decent night's rest they desperately needed. Litton was a good three days walk from their camp but, when they'd heard that part of the mill there had collapsed because the miller simply could not afford the repairs required and that the people were suffering as a consequence, he simply couldn't ignore the urge to help. They'd travelled there on foot as fast as they could, crossing with ease through the forest he'd come to know so well, having no need of the paths anymore. They made their own paths now. Will's expertise and some hard work from the rest of them had, after a couple of days, completed the necessary maintenance and they had begun their journey back the very next morning, keen to quickly return to their normal routine of ensuring that the people of Nottingham survived another day and that the Sheriff did not profit too greatly from their misery.

The villagers had offered them horses but they could not take them. Six good riding horses were far too great a payment for the job they had done. No, instead they had just taken the food offered, enough to see them back, and had headed on their way.

A day away from the village now and progress was notably slower than it had been on the journey there. They needed rest, proper rest in warmth and comfort, sheltered from the ice wind that had set in in earnest during the last week. But they knew they wouldn't get that out in the open, the protective canopy of the forest having long since fallen, leaving behind skeletal, dormant trees in its wake that offered no kind of shelter at all. So they continued on as fast as they were able, the promise that the relative luxury of the camp held driving them on.

But they couldn't avoid the need to rest entirely and, long after the sun had gone down, they had found a place, a sheltered area at the bottom of a slope that would provide at least a little respite from the wind, and had stopped for the night.

Shortly after eating they all joined Much in sleep, Robin instructing John to leave something aside in case their friend woke up hungry.

It was just touching dawn when Robin's eyes opened again, his body disturbed by a fierce gust of wind that cut through his clothes like they weren't even there. He groaned, momentarily missing his warm bed in Locksley Manor. Even his alternatively humid or freezing tent at Acra would have been preferable to this. Sometimes they did indeed suffer for their principles and loyalties but it was odd how these relatively small day to day hardships always seemed to be the most wearying.

As he sat up in defeat, knowing he would sleep now more, he heard Much coughing, loud and deep, the noise sounding vicious in the quiet air.

Robin had noticed Much's cough in the past few days but he had thought little of it until now. They were all suffering somewhat in the recent inclement weather, him included, and he had simply thought that Much must be just reacting to the worsening conditions more poorly than the others were. Only two days ago he had asked Will to ensure that the camp was as protected from the elements as it could be when they returned home. Robin remembered the feel of this air as a boy, the chill so deep it made his bones ache, and knew that it meant a hard winter was ahead.

Yes, they were all a little under the weather, but Much's apparent ill health was a growing concern now as was the fact that he had not touched any of the food that John had left next to him. Many became ill this time of year, that was just a fact of life, but few had to live such a rough and dangerous life as they. It would not do well for any of them to be poorly.

A few feet away, Will was awake too, sitting with his knees huddled to his chest, an ineffectual protection against the cold that bit at them.

"It's going to snow," he said quietly, his eyes looking up at the seemingly permanently grey sky as though expecting to see flakes falling already.

He was right and within half an hour they were tumbling from the heavens, thick and heavy and showing no sign of relenting any time soon. In his youth, Robin had always thought that snow was beautiful and a source of fun. Now it was just another inconvenience that they could do without. They did not need to be both cold and wet.

John's skill and experience allowed him to keep a fire going even against the weather's best efforts to defeat him and they all sat huddled round it, as close to the flames as dared whilst they ate breakfast in silence. Each one of them looked pale and tired but Much most of all as he nibbled unenthusiastically at his food, eating because the others insisted rather than because he wished to.

"I don't feel right," he muttered, shaking his head as a shiver seemed to violently hit him even in the absence of the wind that had died down just a little since the snow started, "I don't feel right at all."

Without waiting to be asked, Djaq placed her hand firmly on his brow, glaring at Much's attempt to pull back.

"You have a slight fever," she announced sternly, as though it was somehow his fault, "I have something that will help."

Robin frowned in concern as he watched Djaq pull some herbs from the pouch she always carried with her and throw them in a cup of water, holding it over the fire until it was warm and smelled pungent. Djaq was not one to fuss unnecessarily and it seemed that she believed Much's current poor health was something of genuine note. Robin had hoped that his own worry was ill founded, that he was overly troubled because Much was his dearest and oldest friend and that he was making more of this than it actually was. It seemed however that he was wrong and his concern was perhaps well placed.

Much wrinkled his nose as she handed the cup to him.

"Nothing so foul smelling could be good for you," he insisted.

"Drink it," she ordered, the conviction in her voice compelling him to do so against his better judgement, "It will help."

Despite Djaq's conviction however Much's cough continued along with the snow and his pallor worsened as the day drew on. Djaq seemed concerned but kept her worries to herself, perhaps realising that to voice them would be pointless in their current situation and maybe even tempting fate. They trudged onwards, cloaks wrapped around them as the snow on the ground passed their ankles and Much's cough became almost commonplace they heard it so often.

The snow grew so thick that when he pitched forward, his legs collapsing from underneath him, only a soft thud was heard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

They carried Much as far as they could but with the ground so heavy going they could not continue for long nor at any sort of pace. The camp was still at least a day's walk away even at good speed and so it was Will who had first suggested that they abandon the idea of heading for home and should instead make their way to the nearest village. Evesham was not far and perhaps they could find some shelter there for a day or two whilst Much recovered.

No one asked why Djaq looked so grim at that.

She, they decided, should stay with Much just inside the forest boundary on the outskirts of the village. It would be better if he was out of harm's way should the village prove not to be as friendly as they hoped and in the meantime she could light a fire and try to get him to drink some more of that herbal mixture in hopes of controlling his spiralling fever.

Despite the still falling snow, the people of Evesham were busily trying to go about their daily business as well as they could. Many had no choice if they were to have a hope of paying their taxes and not starving this month. The only ones who seemed to be enjoying the turn in the weather were half a dozen or so children who were giggling and squealing as they ran about, delighting in pushing each other onto the soft, cold ground. Their merry mood did not seem to spread to anyone else though as Robin had soon discovered.

"My friend is very sick," he explained with wearying patience to the fourth man he had spoken to. The response so far had always been the same however and it showed no signs of being any different this time. "I ask for nothing except shelter for a day or two whilst he recovers."

But the man shook his head once more, apologetic but adamant.

"I wish I could help you, I really do. Lord knows I've heard of what you've done for folk and we're grateful but...," the man sighed heavily as though a little ashamed of himself but not seeing any choice, "But these are dangerous times. I can't risk my family by harbouring outlaws. I'm sorry. Besides, there's sickness is all over the shire and the Sheriff's got all the medicine locked up the castle for him and his lot. No one will want an ill man here if they can help it."

Robin barely heard his excuses, nodding along automatically whilst his eyes scanned for the others. Across the way John caught his gaze, shaking his head in confirmation that he had had no luck either. Allan for his part seemed to be arguing rather heatedly with another man which Robin was sure would get them nowhere. Neither it seemed would Will's tactic of gentle persuasion as a woman closed her door in his face. Any other time Robin would have laughed at Will's slightly embarrassed expression.

Perhaps, he decided, in light of their rapidly dwindling options, it was worth asking this particular man again despite his refusal. Robin was usually so good at persuading others to his cause and he would not let that skill abandoned him now when it mattered most. He could understand the other man's concerns and the need to protect his loved ones but he was only trying to do the same. Much had survived the battle fields of Acre and the long and dangerous journey to the Holy Land and back. Robin would not let him die now in a forest simply for the lack of a little warmth.

"We will make sure you are very well compensated for the risk," Robin pointed out, trying to appeal to the man's monetary concerns if he couldn't get past his fears to find his better nature.

But the man was not so easily swayed and shook his head again, sympathetic but unyielding.

"I'm sorry. You can offer what you want, but no one here will want to risk having you found in their house."

Despite his grim words however the man seemed to hesitate a moment, as though on the edge of saying something more, and a glimmer of hope suddenly shone out on a cold and grey day.

"What?" Robin prompted urgently when nothing was immediately forthcoming.

"You could try the stables," the man said uneasily as though he partly believed that by even suggesting it he was bringing trouble down upon them all, "If you were to be found in there then I suppose the owner could always just say you broke in without them knowing."

"And who owns the stables?" Robin asked, his suddenly hurried manner compensating for the surrender he'd almost allow himself to feel.

"You'll need to talk the farrier," the villager said, nodding towards a small house opposite.

Robin thanked him with a indebted smile and a pat on the shoulder before walking away. He was quickly joined by John, Will and Allan who all looked just as morose as he himself had felt moments earlier.

"Nothing," Allan announced grumpily, "Ungrateful toe rags. After all we've done for the likes of them."

"People are just scared," Will reasoned, feeling the need to defend the villagers even though he looked equally disappointed in the lack of charity shown.

"This Sheriff makes people feel like they'd be better off seeing a man die than risk helping him," John muttered bitterly, directing his anger at the target he felt warranted it the most.

"Much is not going to die," Robin stated firmly, refusing to accept otherwise. It was simply beyond comprehension.

Allan suddenly brightened, "You've got something then?"

"The stables. Well possibly at least if we ask the farrier nicely enough," Robin explained and then, off of Allan's rather unimpressed look, added sternly, "It is better than nothing, okay? At least it's a roof and walls. And hay makes a better bed for a sick man than the forest floor."

None of them could argue with that. It certainly wasn't ideal but they were not in any position to be choosy.

Arriving at the small house the villager had indicated, Robin banged hard on the door with his fist and then, remembering that he certainly did not want to frighten the occupants, knocked again, this time more lightly and shooed the others back a little hoping he looked less intimidating alone.

There was no answer.

Robin was about to knock once more, wondering whether the man was not there or was simply ignoring them in hope that they would go away, when Allan held his hand up, indicating for them all to stop. As soon as they were silent for a moment Robin too caught what Allan's sharp ears must have. The clink of metal being hammered, the sound of the farrier at work, coming from behind the house.

They rounded a corner hurriedly and were surprised to see not a man working a forge as they had expected, but a woman tending to a horse, holding its leg up as she checked the hoof, seeming quite in charge even though she was much smaller than the animal. Her long, very dark hair was tied loosely and resting over her shoulder, providing stark contrast to her pale skin. She was pretty and yet also somehow rather fierce looking as she caught sight of them and eyed them with a glare that said she would give them what for if they'd come to cause her trouble despite her petite frame.

"We were looking for the farrier," Robin explained without hesitation, trying to allay her worries without wasting time, "Can we speak to your husband?"

He made the assumption quickly. She was too old to still be living in her father's house so it must have been her husband who thye had heard working moments before.

But deep down knew he should have learnt long ago not to assume anything anymore.

"You'd have a hard time," she said bluntly, turning her attention back to the horse's hoof when they apparently appeared to be no threat, "He's been dead a year."

Allan frowned, not picking up on the realisation that Robin instantly did.

"Then who's the farrier?"

She simply glared at him as she walked back to the forge and placed the horse shoe she had been working on into the heat, obviously not happy with the fit.

"You?" Allan asked, his laugh at the idea demonstrating no tact at all.

"And what's wrong with that?" she challenged, clearly affronted.

"Well, no offence love," Allan said with a bewildered smile and a shake of his head, "But my father was blacksmith. It's no job for a woman."

Robin quickly intervened before Allan's ill counselled tongue ruined their chances without them even asking.

"We need your help," he explained, stepping closer to her, hoping it would convince her of his sincerity, "We were wondering if we could use your stable for a day or two. Our friend is sick and-"

"Don't do deals with outlaws," she interrupted bluntly, not waiting for his explanation, "Too risky."

And with that she went back to poking the horse shoe in the forge, turning it over to heat it thoroughly, the conversation obviously done as far as she was concerned.

But Robin could not give up so easily.

"Please," he asked quietly, stepping up closer still, not too proud to show his desperation when a friend's life was may depend upon it, "My friend could die out here tonight. We just need some shelter, that is all. I know there is risk but you will be handsomely compensated for it."

She looked up at him, apparently about to tell him a firm 'no' when she faltered just a little. Perhaps she saw the genuine concern he felt or his fear etched in the growing shadows and lines of his face. Either way her glare softened a little and there was sympathy in her eyes although it was tempered by the harshness of reality.

She turned from him, walking over to the horse and pulling the blanket off its back, holding out to Robin.

"Take it," she insisted, "It's all I can do for you."

Robin did as she asked, knowing not a shred of gratitude showed on his face. And why should it? The gesture was a token one at most. And it was not enough to ensure he'd saved Much.

He'd failed his most loyal friend.


End file.
